


Day 1: Fingertips

by imhereforthecookies



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforthecookies/pseuds/imhereforthecookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Days of Writing Challenge </p>
<p>Day 1: Fingertips</p>
<p>Will likes baths. Until he can't stop thinking about the doctor's fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1: Fingertips

Day 1: Fingertips 

Will Graham had always preferred baths to showers. Showers were rushed and required too much focus. In a bath, he didn't have to rush or worry about running out of hot water. He could just run the steaming water, pour in some chamomile bubble bath, and soak. Baths were his favorite time of the day. The only time of day he didn't worry about nightmares or murderers or his lesson plans. 

He turned off the faucet, and ran four fingers through the water for a second. They came out red, but not scalded. Perfect. He took off the white t-shirt and plaid boxers that was his standard relaxing attire, and slowly slid into the tub. The hot water swirled as it moved out of the path of his body, little tendrils of current massaging his legs and stomach like fingertips. He took in a long breath, letting the gentle smell of chamomile and soap fill his crowded mind, removing all of the nagging thoughts. His arms pushed against the sides of the tub, though not uncomfortably. He had been given the option to install a two person tub when he remodeled the bathroom, but he much preferred single person tubs. He could still immerse his whole body, but there was no extra room for anyone else, or anything else, to get in. Just like he preferred the rest of his life. 

As he tried to relax, he couldn't shake one particular thought train. It had been rooting around at the back of his mind, just far back enough to ignore but not far enough to dismiss. It was Hannibal Lecter. Not any particular thing about the psychiatrist, but the whole man. His immaculate golden-grey hair, his gentle brown eyes, the way his long fingers moved as he prepared a meal or wrote a letter, how his pressed trousers hung from his hips. 

Will went back to thinking about the doctor's fingers. They showed age, yet could move in such a way that one might think he was still a young man. The way he chopped up herbs with speed rivaling top chefs, but in the next instant could ever so gently test the temperature of a souffle without it falling. How his hand and arm worked together when he did calligraphy, using sweeping motions to create beautiful letters, and then into lyrical sentences. 

The professor thought about those fingers, and how they might feel when they touched him. He imagined that the pads would be soft, yet worn, all the lotion in the world not covering up a lifetime of work. They would slide down his neck, touching the hollow at the base of his throat before sliding further down, running over the sensitive pink pads on his breasts. Then they would trace a line down his stomach, pausing for a moment before they crossed the line to his groin. 

Hannibal would wrap his fingers around Will, the warmth of them making Will shudder. The doctor would begin to move, slowly, building the friction, driving his patient ever closer to orgasm. And, just as Will couldn't take it anymore, Hannibal would take the fingers on his other hand, and push one of them into Will's entrance, and the simultaneous feelings of fullness and violation would push him over the edge, making him writhe in his lovers-

Will gasped and shot up suddenly out of the cooled water, and coughed as he tried to rid his lungs of it. He could see the evidence of his arousal in the water, though he didn;t want to admit to himself that he could get off thinking about his therapist. Without another beat, he jumped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist, water still dripping from is hair and running down his back like fingertips.


End file.
